


In re Massachusetts v Silva

by OlegGunnarsson



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Before the bombs fell (Fallout), Boston Public Library, Deleted Scenes, F!SS goes back to work, Gen, Legal Drama, Persuasion checks for days, Slocum's Joe, Switchboard (Fallout)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-15 05:24:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8044126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlegGunnarsson/pseuds/OlegGunnarsson
Summary: With Nate and Shaun at home, Nora's life in Sanctuary Hills has settled into a routine. Now that Codsworth is around to help, however, she starts to get the itch to go back to work.





	1. Lunch Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> In the game files, there are several deleted terminal entries for the male and female player character. For Nora, they included case Files she was reviewing. One talked about wanting to get back to work. It got me wondering what sort of attorney she would have been, if the bombs had not fallen.

Much like a hospital, the waiting room of a good law firm was a place of both hope and despair. With a good attorney, someone willing to look beyond the raw facts, no case was unwinnable. Get a hot shot who just wants to win, and you're going nowhere unless you already have a winning case. Of course, if you already had a winning case you wouldn't be in the waiting room, would you?

Nora had always been the sort of lawyer who enjoyed sinking her teeth into a case, rooting beneath the surface for the core facts. But it wasn't just facts, for her. If her gut told her that something was hinky, she wouldn't be able to just accept the obvious conclusion at face value. She'd keep digging.

It had been close to a year since she picked up a new case. With the move, the new house, Shaun - no way would she have been able to give 100% to a client. They deserved her focus, but Nate and Shaun got there first.

Shaun was 2 months old when Nate caught Nora scribbling notes in the margins of the newspaper. He would look later and find gibberish (to him) - court cases and citations, along with arrows pointing to different parts of the story. He smiled and shook his head. This was his legal eagle, a nickname she hated.

But how else? When she got into a case, she’d use him as an audience and bounce facts and theories off of him. She didn’t need him to respond (Thankfully, he thought), just talking things through helped her frame her arguments. When she showed up in court, she was sharp and on point.

She had planned to stay home with Shaun. But when Codsworth proved to be more helpful than either of them expected, she began to reconsider. Codsworth was wonderful with the baby, and until Nate found a job, he would be there as well. If she wanted, she could look for a firm. They had plenty of savings - Nate’s army pay had accumulated nicely, especially while he was deployed. With her caseload, they had been able to live on her paychecks and sock away his for a rainy day.

So Nora decided to invite an old college friend for lunch.

_____  


Gina Tedesco (Suffolk County Law School, Class of ‘71) was one of the few people Nora kept in touch with after law school. A gifted contracts attorney, she moved back to Boston to help keep the lights on at her father’s firm. In the few years since Tedesco and Tedesco began branching out, they had added local farmers and small businesses to their portfolio of rich families and mega-businesses like Mass Fusion and Gwinnett. One of their partners served as the Law Director for the town of Concord, and showed up at town council meetings twice a month.

With the escalation of the war, however, came the realization that serving in the Judge Advocate General’s office was a good way to wear a uniform without getting shot at. When the draft picked up, several of the firm’s young sharpshooters joined the service. Tedesco and Tedesco now found itself with too much work and not enough experienced attorneys to carry the load.

Gina almost asked Nora to take a raincheck, such was her schedule. Nora countered with an offer of American takeout in her office. (Burgers, fries, no noodles, delivered hot and on time or it’s free.) The promise of baby pictures sealed the deal.

Nora arrived a few minutes early, wanting to get a feel for the place. Ms. Tedesco was in a meeting with a client, she was told. She sat for a minute, thumbing through the latest Picket Fences.

It wasn’t long before Gina entered the waiting room, leading an upset young woman. Maybe Nora’s age, maybe a bit older. _She’s been crying_ , Nora thought.

Then she caught what Gina was saying - “I’ll see what we can do.” _uh oh._

After the woman left, Nora walked over. “Everything ok?”

“That was Mrs. Silva. Her husband knocked over a coffee shop and they can’t make bail. So he’s in custody until his trial, and there’s no one to pay an attorney. We’ll see if we can find someone to help, but we don’t have anyone who can handle this one.” Gina sighed. “The state is pushing hard. Not a good first case, I think. Come on back.”

Nora looked around as they walked back to the corner office. “I’m that obvious, am I?”

“Three things, Nora dear. First, your husband bought you a house in the most remote and boring suburb of Boston. Baby or no, you have to be stir crazy by now. Second, I know exactly how you look when you’re ready to go all-in on a new case. You’ve got that look right now. “

A sigh, and a chuckle. “You really do know me too well, G. What was the third thing?”

“Oh, that?” she said as they entered her office. “Nate called Paul as soon as you left the house. And then my beloved called me to give me the heads up.”

“Betrayed, am I?” Nora laughed.

“Of course. But because of your better half, I get to tell you ‘Yes’ before lunch gets here.” Gina smiled. “and I’ve even got an easy one to get your feet wet again.”

_____________

Codsworth floated quietly behind her. “More coffee, Mum?”

“Thank you.” She said, eyes never leaving the file. This was her third read through the thin folder. The first was just to get an idea of the parties and the dispute. The second was to see if her theory was correct. The third was to make sure she was reading this right.

Paul had called Nate and dragged him out of the house to Fenway for an early game. Boston was leading their division, but only just - so even a snoozer against Detroit mattered. And with Shaun sleeping longer these days, Nora had plenty of time to go over the file.

 _There’s no case here,_ she said to herself. Out loud, she sighed and muttered.

“What was that, hon?” said Nate, as he walked in the side door. “Sore-whatsis?”

“Soreloseritis. That’s my official diagnosis for what might have been an interesting case.” Setting the file back onto the kitchen table, she stood and stretched. “How was the game?”

“Over in the 6th. Our relievers held. We might have a shot at the whole show, if we keep playing like this.” Nate grabbed a beer from the fridge. He held another toward Nora, who waved him off. “OK, so you’re upset about the case. Want to talk about it? Attorney husband privilege?”

She sat next to him on the couch. “You remember that fight a few months ago, where the guy got knocked out trying to flee the ring? ”

Nate chuckled. “I remember wondering who would pay to see Manny Blanks fight. Suckers, probably. Then I saw the replay on the news - turns out I was right.” He raised his beer in salute. “As usual.”

“Yes, baby, as usual. Well, Manny Blanks doesn’t like the coverage that the fight got. He doesn’t like how he got popped in the head so many times. And he certainly doesn’t like the fact that he lost so badly that they might not renew his license to fight.”

“He was good, back in the day. A few years ago, they said he might win the championship.” Nate shook his head. “But he hasn’t done much since. All the real contenders beat him and moved on. The Kelley fight was probably his last big shot.” He glanced over at the file spread out on the table. “Why do you ask?”

Nora looks at him. “Mr. Blanks has asked Gina Tedesco’s firm to help him sue Frank Kelley, the Commonwealth Athletics Board, the Federal Gaming Commission, and everybody else he could find who was there that night.”

Nate just blinked at her. “Doesn’t he have to sign stacks of paperwork just to fight?”

“Funny enough, you’re right. He did sign everything he had to, including an agreement not to sue. Strike one.” Nora held up a finger, then added another. “Strike two is that he says that they clearly used illegal tactics, but doesn’t list any of them. “

“So we go to the tape.” said Nate. “Don’t they review those big fights after?”

“Correct - which brings us to Strike Three. The official verdict when the CAB reviewed the video, and I quote: ‘Mr. Blanks demonstrates no cause of action for overturning the result of the fight, apart from the fact that he was repeatedly and severely beaten. As such, the result stands.’” At this, she stood as well. “So ordered, etc etc etc. Like I said, Soreloseritis.”

Nate raised his beer again. “Sounds like you nailed it. So what now?”

  
“Now, I tell Gina to punt. Blanks has a lot of money, but there’s no there there. Nothing apart from a busted nose and a fractured ego. Boo Hoo. “ Nora picked up the file and tossed it onto the coffee table. “Pass.”


	2. The Rashomon Effect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora dives into her next case, and learns about an armed robbery gone wrong. Behind the arrests, the reports, the interviews, something doesn't make sense. Someone is lying. And if Nora can't find out who, an innocent man goes to prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it isn't obvious, this is my first published fiction, and might more accurately be called "Adventures in Worldbuilding." Feedback is welcome, of course.

“I can wait,” Nora said to the receptionist at Tedesco and Tedesco. Maybe she’d join the firm, maybe not - but until she did, it was too soon to just wander into their offices. The reality was that she was just a consultant, and an unpaid one at that. So she had a seat in the waiting room, and was still there when Mrs. Silva returned. 

She was not alone this time. With her was an ancient-looking woman. They spoke in low tones, and she couldn’t quite place the language.  _ Portuguese? _ Nora thought to herself. The woman’s dark skin and wizened face were framed by white hair under a brightly colored scarf, and her necklaces and earrings looked like something from an African bazaar. 

As the receptionist picked up the phone to announce them, Gina Tedesco came out to meet Nora. Seeing the other women, she shot Nora a look.  _ Sorry _ , her shrug said. Nora returned the gesture. 

“Miss Gina, this is my mother in law, Mayra Silva. I wanted you to tell her what you told me over the phone.” Rebecca Silva was calm, but Nora could tell that she was on edge - which meant that whatever news Gina had given her, it wasn’t good. 

“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Silva,” Gina said, addressing the elder woman. “But we don’t have any good criminal attorneys to review your son’s case. The ones I do have are involved in trials right now, and it’ll be a few weeks before their schedules clear up. And your son needs an attorney right away. I’m very sorry, but we can’t help you.” She looked to Rebecca. “Did you get ahold of anyone in the legal clinic at Cambridge?” 

“They’re too busy for us.” Rebecca spat. “And the public defender won’t return my calls. He met with Corsino once at the jail, and left five minutes later.” She shook her head, sadly. “My husband did nothing - and no one cares.” 

Nora shifted in her seat. The Silvas had ignored her to that point, but the motion drew Mayra Silva’s ancient gaze. “You there,” She said, with an accent that now sounded more creole than anything. “You’d do anything for your son, yes?” 

_ How the hell did she know? _ “Of course I would.” Nora replied. Gina caught her eye, one eyebrow raised. Nora returned the look and gently nodded. 

_ Are you sure?  _ Gina’s eyes seemed to ask. Nora nodded again. 

“Perhaps I can reach out to another attorney I know. She might see something we’ve missed.” Gina said. “Can I call you in a few days?” 

“What else can we do? Come on,  Avó. Let’s go home.” Rebecca Silva turned to lead her mother in law out of the office. As they passed, the elder Mrs. Silva caught Nora’s gaze again. And then they were gone. 

Gina took a deep breath. “Nora, I know you’re ready to take on the world, but this is not the case for you. First day back, and you’re taking the Commonwealth head-on? And one of the largest coffee shop chains in the Northeast?” 

Nora didn’t disagree. She still wasn’t sure what gave her the idea in the first place. “It couldn’t hurt to look over the file, could it? And you were right, I might see something the others missed. If it’s a loser, that’d make me 0 for 2.”  

“Blanks vs Kelley.” Gina said, as they entered her office. It was not a question. 

“Nothing there. I’ve got my notes in the file, but the bottom line is that Mr. Blanks doesn’t have a case.” 

Gina sat heavily on the leather couch along the far wall, looking at Nora. “I wasn’t lying to the Silvas, we don’t have anyone on deck for a big criminal case. But that’s not why I think we should pass on this one. I know the prosecutor, and he wouldn’t leave his office unless there are cameras involved. He’s running unopposed, he doesn’t need a big win. But here he is, pushing this case like Silva shot the president or something. It doesn’t add up. “ She looked at her friend. “Nora, are you sure?” 

Nora picked up the thick file from the stack on the desk. It was labelled  _ Massachusetts v Silva _ . “Gina, I don’t know what gave me the idea to agree to this. But Mrs. Silva was right - I’m a mom.” Pulling a photo from the file, she handed it to Gina. “And Corsino Silva should be with his son.”   

____________________

It had been years since Nora wandered the stacks at the Boston Public Library. Outside of a law school, their collection of legal references was the best in the area, which would help. Her law books were still in storage from before the move, and she hadn’t yet talked to Nate about getting them out. Even if she did, where would they fit? She could always use a terminal and a database access, but those were still expensive - and she preferred the quiet of a small table surrounded by real books. Holotapes, as handy as they were, just weren’t the same. 

The fact that she snuck in a travel cup of coffee from Elianora’s didn’t hurt, either - and it helped with the headache she was rapidly developing. 

Now on her second read through the file, she was certain that she had missed something on the first go. With Manny Blanks, a missed fact just meant that he had to convince someone else to take up his case. With Corsino Silva, a missed fact meant years in prison. She had to make sure she got this right. 

Nora took another sip of coffee, and flipped back to page 1 of the file. 

Corsino Silva, 26, of Roxbury, married to Rebecca Silva _née_ Portsmith, 24, of Richmond, Virginia. One son, Roberto Silva, 3. Also at the Silva residence is the suspect’s mother, one Myrna Silva, 64, born in Cape Verde, West African Federation. _That explains the accent_ , Nora thought. His booking photos showed a tall, muscular man - _a bit taller than Nate._ He had the look of someone who worked with his hands, but his expression was angry and hurt. Another photo showed Silva playing with a toddler, undoubtedly his son. Both were laughing. 

Employment is listed as the Corvega Plant since May 2075, where Mr. Silva worked third shift as a maintenance tech. He was responsible for maintaining the robots on the main line, and occasionally the protectron robots as well. His supervisor had nothing but positive comments (See attached interview), and records showed that Silva never missed a shift (See attached timesheets).  _ Not the armed robbery type _ , Nora thought.  _ And Corvega pays well.  _

The next page listed the arrest narrative. “On the morning of Friday, July 16th, 2077, Mr. Silva left the Corvega Plant at the end of his shift, approximately 0500 hours. At 0525 hours he stopped at the Slocum Joe’s near the plant for a coffee. He purchased an early edition of the Boston Bugle and sat in a corner booth. 

“At 0543 hours, an anonymous call came in from a payphone near Slocum Joe’s, saying that there had been a robbery at Slocum Joe’s, and that a suspect was seen running south. Suspect was described as a dark-skinned male 6’ tall, wearing dark coveralls and carrying a black backpack. Units 717 and 712 were dispatched to the scene, where (at 0552 hours) they found Corsino Silva walking south from the Slocum Joe’s. Mr. Silva was wearing coveralls and carrying a black backpack. Mr. Silva was ordered to lay down on the ground, at which time Officer Renfrow discovered what appeared to be a low yield laser pistol in the suspect’s backpack (See inventory, attached). Suspect was taken into custody on suspicion of armed robbery and possession of an unregulated laser pistol. 

As she did the first time through, Nora carefully reread this part.  _ He robs a coffee shop with a laser pistol, then walks calmly away?  _ She consulted a bus map, looked at the times on his route. To get home, he usually took the bus - and the next bus was at 6:20. He was arrested within sight of the stop. Sure she was missing something, she continued reading. 

“Two witnesses were at the scene during the robbery. 

-Andrea Cozelli, 34, of Quincy. Director of Psychology at Medford Medical Center. Ms. Cozelli entered Slocum Joe’s at approximately 0535, and was engaged in conversation with the clerk when Mr. Silva approached the till and demanded money. Silva brandished a laser, and the clerk handed over several handfuls of cash totalling $778. Mr. Silva ignored Ms. Cozelli, to her relief. He then ran out of the shop. Ms. Cozelli went to the payphone and called police. (See attached interview)”

Someone had helpfully included Ms. Cozelli’s work schedule in the file, probably so that they could schedule a followup interview. On Fridays, she doesn’t work until 10 am.  _ So what the hell is she doing in Lexington at 5:30?  _

“-James Keithley, 23, of Lexington, was the clerk on duty at the time of the robbery. While initially he would not confirm Ms. Cozelli’s version of events, he did state that a robbery had taken place, that some money had been taken, and that “...it probably happened just as she said, ma’am.” Mr. Keithley refused to provide additional information without an attorney present. (See attached interview) (Note: Follow-up interview cancelled, will reschedule per Slocum Joe’s Corporate. 8/13/77 -FR) “

Again, Nora paused.  _ A man holds a laser to your face and demands money, and you don’t even tell police what happened?  _ Nora wondered why the corporate office got involved, or why they would cancel the interview with the clerk and their attorneys. 

“Mr. Silva denied that any robbery took place. Mr. Silva states that he sat and read the paper while drinking his coffee, and that Ms. Cozelli entered the shop around 0535. Ms. Cozelli immediately got into a heated discussion with Mr. Keithley, during which she angrily referred to a woman named Pam or Pat or something similar. (No last name given, no ID, see interview.)”  _ So they know each other…  _ thought Nora. “Mr. Silva also heard them discuss the phone switches. The conversation grew more heated over the next few minutes, leading Mr. Silva to leave a $20 bill on the table and exit the shop. He remembers that Ms. Cozelli was surprised by his presence, having not noticed him when she entered. Police apprehended him approximately 10 minutes later. 

_ If he did rob the place, this is about what he’d say, _ thought Nora.  _ But if he’s telling the truth, and just walked out… well, that explains why he was in no hurry. But why carry a laser? Lexington’s a pretty safe area.  _ She flipped ahead to the inventory, listing everything Mr. Silva was carrying. 

“The following property in Mr. Silva’s possession was inventoried and stored. 

-1 Gold Flip-lighter 

-1 Pack, cigarettes (opened, 14 cigarettes remaining) 

-1 Leather wallet (Detailed Inventory attached), including $42 cash

-1 early edition Boston Bugle, July 16th 2077

-1 pair of Jeans, worn

-1 Nuka-World T-Shirt, Size XXL, new (Cappy and Bottle)

-1 Nuka-Cola brand Thirst Zapper squirt gun (empty)

 

Nora sat and stared at the page. “A squirt gun?” she muttered. It took some stones to hold up a coffee shop with a squirt gun. She looked at a photo of the Nuka-Cola brand Thirst Zapper.  _ No way someone thinks that’s real.  _

Something else nagged at her attention. What was she missing?  _ ….Or what was he missing? There’s no cash!  _ She skimmed the arrest report - no mention even of a search for the cash. If he tossed it when he saw police, no one thought to look for it. But no mention of him tossing anything - he’d been walking calmly, bag on shoulder and paper in hand. 

On the next page, the interview with Mr. Silva continued. He repeatedly asked why he was there - and seemed pretty angry.  _ I would be too… _

One detective asked him why he thought he could rob a Slocum Joe’s with nothing more than a squirt gun and cojones? Silva replied that a friend at the plant had picked up the squirt gun and a new T-shirt for he and his boy. Nora checked - and the shirt still had tags, according to the inventory. 

Nora leaned back, sipped her coffee - and found that it was empty. She looked down at her notes.  _ Only one witness. Only one witness who may have been arguing with the clerk. The clerk, the one who got robbed, doesn’t say anything about a laser - and police don’t find any lasers. They don’t find the cash that got stolen, either.  _ She circled this last, then sat back and sighed. 

“I was right. None of this makes sense.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No spoilers, as such, but if you've played through the game you might pick up some hints as to what happened to Mr. Silva.


	3. Evidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora tries to fill in some of the holes in the Arrest Report. Did Mr. Silva have a laser, or just a squirt gun? And if he robbed the Slocum Joe's, where'd the cash go?

Officer Aaron White had been assigned to Cambridge in early April, and hadn’t found much to love about the job. The university area was fairly quiet, and had gotten better once Cambridge became more of a commuter campus. Fewer dorms meant fewer shenanigans, according to Chief Richardson. Officer White couldn’t disagree, but did wonder if maybe there might be room for a temporary assignment to Precinct 8 in the fall. The last time the Sox went to the championship, they lost in 6 games and there were drunks everywhere. Lord knows what would happen if they won. 

But for now, he kept the evidence lockers clean and sorted. If the job was his, he was going to make sure it got done right - and that it was seen to be done right, hopefully by officers more important than he. 

Officer White didn’t have much occasion to talk to lawyers. He most especially did not talk to many defense lawyers. So that’s why his 2:00 appointment surprised him so. No name, just “Attorney for C Silva (565-AR), regarding evidence log.” So some high priced attorney was going to question his records? And get him written up for failure to properly manage evidence intake? Nope. Not today. 

Even her calm, pleasant tones and her insistence that he just call her Nora didn’t put Officer White at ease. This woman was questioning his integrity, and that could not stand. 

“Your office asked me to pull my records for a Mr. Corsino Silva,” he said, looking at his report and not at his guest. “But they didn’t tell me what I was supposed to be looking for.” 

Nora had given the officer a once over as he lead her to his desk. He was younger than she, and his attitude screamed “Rookie”, even though his uniform displayed service stars for at least 2 years on the force. His desk was neat and tidy, and she had no doubt that the evidence locker would be as well.  _ Good, that’ll make this simpler,  _ she thought to herself. 

“Mr. Silva was arrested for Armed Robbery, and officers reported that he was carrying a red laser pistol at the time of his arrest. You can see that in the arrest report, there on page 3.” Nora pointed at the page, and White instinctively slid it back toward him.

“I can see that. That’s a pretty serious crime, you know.” He replied. 

“True enough. OK, so he has a laser pistol. What happens to it when he is taken into custody?” 

Officer White frowns. Where is she going with this? He wonders. “Anything dangerous - firearms, lasers of any type, explosives, drugs, you name it - is cataloged. We fill out a form with a description and take a picture, making sure to log serial numbers or whatever, if there are any. Then we keep a copy of the form and send the item to BADTFL for lab analysis or safe storage. We keep the information, the Feds keep the contraband.” Officer White looked at Nora, then continued. “ _ If _ they are acquitted, they can go to BADTFL and get their items back with a copy of the court documents.” 

Nora sat back in her chair.  _ Got you. _ “That’s a fairly standard procedure, then? Items aren’t ever sent to BADTFL without being logged with you?” 

Officer White smiled at her, though she did not think it was a very pleasant smile. “Not at this station, Ma’am. Perhaps somewhere else. But we run things by the book, here.” 

Nora returned the smile. “I would expect nothing less, officer. So tell me - Mr. Silva is accused of Armed Robbery with a laser - as you said, a very serious crime. If you’ll look on page 8 of the report, you’ll see what he was carrying when he was arrested. “ She gave him a moment to flip the pages. 

“Yes?” Officer White said, as he read down the list. 

“He had a squirt gun, and that’s listed - and note that it’s red, just like the laser. But there’s no record of him carrying any other weapon. No laser, no transfer sheet, no BADTFL paperwork.” She looked Officer White in the eye. “So why is my client being charged with carrying a laser that doesn’t exist?” 

He read the list again, then looked at her. He did not reply, but instead turned to his terminal. 

“565-AR” Nora said, helpfully. White scowled at her, but said nothing as he entered the case number into the terminal. The inventory it showed him matched her copy of the file. 

White sat back, trying to figure out what had happened. Nora saw the look on his face, and decided to try another tactic.  _ This isn’t a cross examination,  _ she reminded herself. 

“Officer, if my client did have a laser and, say, tossed it into a trash bin or a dumpster after robbing the coffee shop, and if the responding officers couldn’t find it afterward, what would your evidence log show?” 

Officer White considered that, shook his head. “No good. If an officer saw him toss the weapon, the report would say that. If they didn’t see him but searched anyway, the report would say that. And it does, for the cash.” he said, flipping to another section of the report. “The witness said he had cash, but he didn’t when they got to him.” 

Then Officer White turned the page, trailing off as he skimmed the paragraphs. “Hm.” 

Nora leaned forward. “Hm?”  

Officer White continued to read the report. “They didn’t search for the cash. Which means they knew where it was and didn’t need to search. Silva didn’t have it on him…” He trailed off as he came to the end of the report. “Hm.” 

Nora waited patiently, and was rewarded when Officer White looked at her. “You see the problem.” she said simply. 

He did indeed. But there is other evidence, of course. “Ma’am, I don’t know how things are where you’re from, but if a man holds what looks like a red laser during a robbery, and uses that object to threaten force in the act of that robbery, the law cares not one bit whether that object is a real weapon, whether it’s loaded, whether it’s legal. If he acts armed, he’s armed, and that makes this armed robbery.” 

“You’re right, of course.” Nora agreed. “And if Mr. Silva had waved a squirt gun in a robbery, it’d be a serious crime.” She did not consciously mimic Officer White when she said “Serious Crime”, but his face said that he didn’t like having his own words thrown back at him.  _ Don’t piss him off… _ she thought. “So did he?”

Officer White looked at her. “Did he what?” 

“Did he brandish the squirt gun? Surely you fingerprinted it when it was brought in, right?” 

White’s eyes darted to the terminal, before meeting Nora’s. It was quick, but not quick enough. “I wouldn’t know, ma’am.” 

_ Fine. _ “Who would? A fingerprint report wasn’t in the file. Who do I talk to to get a copy?” 

Without a word, White turned back to his terminal. He was still logged in, of course - these new Robco units never seemed to log you out, no matter how long you sat idle. He began typing.

“We fingerprinted the squirt gun, and a preliminary report was approved two weeks ago… but no final report. Hm. That’s odd…” Again he typed. A printer in the other room started buzzing. White turned back to Nora, his face unreadable. 

“Ma’am, I’m going to give you a copy of the fingerprint report. It’s preliminary, and the final version has not been approved. The shift supervisor signs off on the final report before it’s entered, and that’s usually done on the same day.” He rose to retrieve the printout. “As I said, we go by the book here.” 

Nora needed to know. “Then why…?” but the look on White’s face stopped her. 

“Ma’am, the way I see it, this would have been final anyway. So giving you a copy without making you ask the court for it seems like a good idea.”  _ And I don’t like the Feds screwing around with my paperwork…  _ he thought to himself. 

When she saw the printout, she understood. “Final report on hold pending fingerprint database audit by BADTFL” she read, out loud. “And this has held up a lot of your fingerprint reports, I assume?”  _ Either he’s pissed because of the backlog, or… _

“This is the first I’ve heard of any audit.” White said, evenly. “As far as I know, there is no audit.” 


	4. Paper Trail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With her investigation stalled, Nate and Nora take Shaun on a shopping trip. Nora has a cup of coffee and a fascinating conversation.

Nate understood when Nora paused in the parking lot of the Super Duper Mart. He had listened to her go through her theories about the Silva case, and he had been the one to suggest calling BADTFL directly. They weren’t prosecuting the case, the Commonwealth was - and since this wasn’t a Federal investigation, BADTFL’s intervention in the fingerprint report was all the more inexplicable. 

Seeing the Slocum’s Joe across from the market gave him pause as well. It’s one thing to hear about some coffee shop in a police report, but quite another to stand there and see the place. If he thought about it, he could see where Silva might have walked, where he was arrested. The bus stop was just down that way. 

_ She’s got me doing it now, too, _ thought Nate. He looked down at the baby carrier, where Shaun was sound asleep. He’d probably stay that way all through the store. 

“Honey?” he said, gently. Nora turned to him, and he could see she was still thinking things over. Nate walked back to where she stood, and gently set the carrier on the ground next to his feet, where he could rock it if Shaun stirred. 

Nora was surprised when Nate leaned in for a kiss, and again when he only kissed her cheek. Then she noticed the shopping list he’d taken from her pocket. 

“I think Shaun and I can handle the shopping today, right buddy?” He gently nudged the carrier, and it swayed forward and back slightly. “That’s a yes. Why don’t we let mommy get some coffee?” 

Nora glanced back at the Slocum’s Joe, then to her husband. “I told you, I wasn’t going to let this interfere with our family.” 

“And I said, if you’ll remember, that I know you. When you get into a case, when you’re focused on something like that, you don’t hold back. You take aim and you go for it.” He nodded at the coffee shop. “You’ve been trying to crack this nut for a week. Maybe seeing the scene of the crime will put things in perspective.” 

Her husband shrugged, and gave her his best smile. “Worst that can happen? You get a nice cup of coffee and an escape from Super Duper Mart.” 

“Well,” Nora said, “When you put it that way... “ 

________

Slocum’s Joe was an old-fashioned donut and coffee shop. Booths to the left of the door, more across the front of the shop, and stools along the counter. The register was on the end of the counter furthest from the door. Past that, a back door gave access to an upstairs office, a kitchen, bathrooms, and a basement. 

_ Simple enough _ , Nora thought as she sat down with her coffee. She looked around a bit before choosing the booth in the back corner. The same one Mr. Silva chose that night in July. 

She thought back through the arrest report. If what Mr. Silva said was true, then there’s no way he could have seen Ms. Cozelli arguing with the clerk. And there’s no way she would have missed a big man sitting in full view of the front entrance. Even if he had his newspaper up and open, so that she couldn’t see his face, she’d know someone was there.  _ Is there a back door, maybe? Why would they let some random woman in the back door? _

Then Nora remembered - the clerk and Cozelli had argued. If they knew each other, he might have let her in. If she came in the back, no wonder she didn’t see Mr. Silva. 

_ So she comes in the back, and is arguing with this Keithley kid about some woman named Pam, or about phone calls, or something.  _ Nora leaned forward. Even if she were sitting in the other seat, with her back to the door, she couldn’t see the register.  _ Mr. Silva doesn’t want trouble - he just got off an 8 hour shift. He walks out. Cozelli sees him and gets embarrassed. She was arguing about another woman in front of a stranger?  _

Then Nora paused.  _...Who cares? Chances are, she’d never see Corsino Silva again. Why call in a robbery report? Why get him arrested?  _

Her eyes wandered as she thought, as she tried to put the pieces together. Then she had it. Picking up her coffee, Nora walked up to the counter and picked a stool. 

As with that fateful morning two months before, Nora was the only customer. She saw a phone behind the counter, next to a list of numbers. Slocum’s Joe Corporate HQ was top of the list, which made sense - this was probably the closest shop to headquarters.  _ Why did Cozelli call from a payphone? Why didn’t the clerk call the police from here? _

A young clerk is cleaning mugs behind the counter. Short but muscular, he looked just about the right age to be wearing a uniform, and his haircut would not have been out of place at Fort Strong.  _ I wonder why he wasn’t drafted _ , Nora thought.  _ He’s too young to have served and gotten out already. _  He wore a simple white shirt and a dirty white apron, the uniform of small coffee and donut joints for more than a century. His nametag said Rich. 

“How’s the coffee, ma’am?” he said. 

“It’s good, thanks. I haven’t had Slocum’s Joe in quite a while.” 

“Well, we’re glad you stopped by. Let me know if there’s anything you need.” 

“I’ll do that.” Nora said, before leaning forward. She had taken a look at the wall above the large painting behind the counter, and seen what she expected to see.  _ I should have planned this ahead of time _ she thought. Now all she could do is hope that her outfit said “housewife” enough to fit the role she wanted to play. 

She was ready. “Say, is this the Slocum’s Joe that got robbed a few months ago?”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that, ma’am.” he replied, cautiously. 

Nora made a show of looking around. “Yes, it has to be. A guy took hundreds of dollars and threatened the clerk with a laser. “ Pausing, for effect. “It wasn’t you, was it? It must have been scary.” 

She heard the mug go clink as he set it down, and she somehow knew that she now had his undivided attention. “Ma’am, if there were a robbery, it wasn’t while I was here. I work the midday shift, as you can see.” 

_ Ma’am again, maybe he was in the army. He sounds like a recruit,  _ Nora thought to herself.  _ OK kid _ ,  _ now the tricky part. _

“Do you know who was here? I’ll bet he has a story to tell.” 

“Jim doesn’t work here anymore, ma’am.” Rich said, too quickly. Nora had been looking around for effect, so she didn’t see his eyes widen at the instant he realized he had said too much.  

Nora turned back to him, and smiled. “After having a laser in your face, I don’t doubt it. And I’ll bet the police caught the robber as soon as they saw him on the video.” 

The clerk looked at her. “We don’t have cameras here.” 

_ No ma’am, that time. Careful… _

“Rich,” Nora said, gently, in the same voice she had used long ago to wheedle information out of hesitant county clerks. “There’s a camera above your head, and another one over the door. They use similar ones at the courthouse. Both cover the cash register. “ She smiled easily, hoping against hope that she was as non-threatening as she planned - and that she hadn’t overplayed her hand by mentioning the courthouse. “Surely the police saw them and asked for the footage.” 

The arrest report said nothing about cameras, which means that the footage went the way of the laser and the cash. Unless…

Rich gave as good as he got. His voice was calm and even, and he could have been confirming an order for a dozen donuts just as easily as he was now speaking with her. “ Ma’am, we don’t have working security cameras. So we don’t have video to give out. If the courthouse asked us, we’d have to tell them the same. But we’d rather the court not ask us. Ma’am.”

His meaning was unambiguous.  _ Drop it, please, ma’am. _

Still smiling, Nora used the only out he left her. “That’s their problem then, I guess. I hope they catch the robber.” 

“So do I,” Rich replied. Coffee pot in hand, he turned away from her to fill a travel cup. He popped the lid on, and set it down in front of her. 

_ Message received, _ thought Nora. “Thanks, how much do I owe you?” 

“This one’s on the house, ma’am. Have a good day.” 

“You too, Rich. Thanks again.” And with that, Nora stood and walked out of the Slocum's Joe. 

  
Once she was gone, Rich walked over to the phone. Not the regular phone on the back shelf, but the smaller red phone by the register. “Station Java for Customer Service. Paper Trail.” Sergeant Rich Franklin heard the countersign, and then hung up. He had coffee pots to clean, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Other than cleaning up what we find in the deleted terminals - Corsino Silva is called "Corsino Cruz" twice, for example - and adding some years to his age to make the story fit the facts, I've tried really hard to keep this as plausibly canon as possible. Whatever path your Sole Survivor takes, whatever their gender, they start in the same house at the same point in time. 
> 
> They also don't know anything about secret DIA installations. 
> 
> So just as I've tried to avoid spoiling any twists here, I've also got to do so in such a way as to avoid spoiling events two centuries in the future for Nate and Nora. (If Bethesda wanted Nora to react to the Slocum's Joe by saying "Oh yeah, that's the coffee shop where the guy threatened me one time", they would have done so.)


	5. Advocates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prosecutor responsible for sending Mr. Silva to prison learns that his case is not what he thought it was.

Bill Sterling did not like taking orders. Even as a Major in the Army, he had much preferred giving them. When it became clear that he wasn’t going to climb any higher in the DIA’s chain of command, he took his retirement and dusted off his law degree. And never looked back. 

Now an assistant District Attorney in and for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts (Boston District), he was his own boss. The Acting District Attorney had been more worried about removing the “acting” from his title than anything else, and settled that issue in the primaries. Without an opponent for November’s election, he was taking a much deserved vacation on some remote island in Maine. 

And that left Bill Sterling in charge. A perfect audition for the soon to be open Deputy District Attorney job. 

So when his secretary told him that Pete Vogel had called him, Sterling felt the sandbag above his head. Vogel was the head attorney for Slocum’s Joe, a national coffee shop chain. Sterling had spent years at their flagship location - or, more precisely, underneath it. 

It had been a decade since Sterling retired, but in his day only two people at corporate knew the true nature of Slocum’s Joe location #38 (Lexington). One of them was the lead attorney. No one ever asked why Slocum’s Joe always hired an Army vet as their top lawyer. 

Sterling looked down at the handwritten message. “Let me buy you a cup of premium blend. We’ve got $5 pastries now. How’s this afternoon work for you? -Pete”  _ Goddammit,  _ Sterling muttered to himself. 

Premium Blend meant that something eyes-only important had popped up. A cup of it meant that it related to him personally. (A mug would have been his department, a bag would have been the DIA itself.) Pastries told him that a VIP would be in on it, or at least someone who thought they were a VIP. And the price point was supposed to indicate the severity. $5 pastries meant that something seriously FUBAR was going to hit the fan very shortly, and that it was aimed directly at him. 

The fact that Vogel suggested a meeting today only reinforced that. An attorney like Vogel could bill thousands of dollars for every hour of his time. Clearing a couple hours out of his schedule to go have coffee in Lexington doesn’t come cheap. 

“Carol,” Sterling said with a sigh. His secretary came to his door. “Cancel my 1:00 with Judge Mulready, and move the 3:00 staff meeting to Monday.“

Her eyes studied him over her horn-rim glasses, as she walked over to his wall and turned the calendar. It was October 1st, and - as usual - he hadn’t made the adjustment yet. “You know there isn’t any baseball today, right? Not until Wednesday.” 

Sterling smiled in spite of himself. “Carol, I know you think baseball is a waste of time, but if Boston gets to the world series again, I expect you to run this office while I go enjoy a game or two.” He pointed a finger at her, mock-threatening. “And if you call baseball bats “swatters” one more time, I’m gonna…” 

“You’re gonna what, Mr. Acting Deputy District Attorney, sir?” 

He chuckled. “Probably I’ll buy tickets and take you along. Make you enjoy it just so you’ll leave me alone about it.” 

“We’ll see.” she replied, simply. He never understood how she could balance her voice, combining just the right amount of judgement and sass. But he was right, without her the entire office would collapse. She kept things moving. He expected a fight when he tried to take her with him to the head office. 

She left, leaving him to call Pete Vogel’s office and confirm that he’d be at Slocum’s Joe at 1. 

_____

The old coffee shop was just as Bill Sterling remembered it. He saw that the painting behind the register had not changed in the decade since he’d last seen it, though maybe it had been cleaned once or twice. He saw that the booths were newer, and that there was indeed a pastry display being installed on the back shelf.  _ Oh my God they finally did it,  _ he thought to himself with disgust.  _ Buzzbites. _

The kid behind the counter eyed him as he walked in. They got a lot of people from the surrounding businesses - Corvega, Super Duper Mart, and so on. Very few of them wore thousand-dollar suits. 

Sterling sat down and asked for a travel cup of coffee. Double strong, double sweet.  This got him another look from the clerk - why a travel cup, you’re sitting right there. 

Pete Vogel, esq., (formerly Colonel Peter Vogel, DIA) walked in as the lid was popped onto Sterling’s cup. “Bill! Good to see you!” the big man said as he approached. They shook hands, and Vogel gave him a hard clap on the shoulders. “We’ve missed you at golf. Guess it’s that promotion, eh?” 

Sterling really hated the small talk (part of why he skipped golf), but he knew how the game was played. “You know how it is, Pete. We’re shorthanded in an election year, it’s pandemonium.” 

“I’ll bet. Well, you’ll have to tell me all about it over beers sometime.” Vogel looked at the clerk. “Is Frank in? I don’t think Bill has met your manager.” 

“Mr. Roosevelt went to the game, sir.” replied the clerk. 

“Ah well. I hope the rain misses him then.” Vogel replied, completing the passphrase. 

Corporal Mike Gelesky nodded, and reached under the counter to hit a switch. “Bathroom’s in the back, sirs. “ 

“Thanks, Mike.” Vogel said. Despite knowing he didn’t have to, force of habit and years of masquerade forced Sterling to leave a tip as he walked away with his travel cup. They went to the back stairs, and down to the basement. 

A lone cook was mopping the basement prep area while listening to the radio. He looked up as they entered. Without a word, he went to the wall and flipped a switch. The Bookcase slid out of the way, and Vogel and Sterling entered the elevator behind. 

The guard at the next gate waved them through - the heavy security door had already been opened for them. And now Sterling saw why - an angry looking Lt. Colonel was waiting. 

Vogel made introductions. “Bill, this is Lt. Colonel Finch. In addition to her regular duties, which are none of your business thank you very much, the Lieutenant Colonel also runs the front operation at the coffee shop.” He turned to Finch. “Major Sterling here was in charge of Signals Intel for several years, before civilian life got its claws into him.” All of this came with a jovial smile, as if he were hobnobbing with CEOs or other hangers-on. 

When Sterling had been assigned to the switchboard, the Slocum’s Joe had an actual for-reals General Manager. Now it seemed that was handled down here - which could not have pleased a short colonel one bit. 

But Sterling also caught the other bit of doubletalk. “None of your business, thank you very much” was a very old in-joke among the staff at the Switchboard - it was the entire text of their resumes once they left the service. Vogel was trying, under her nose, to point out that they were all on the same team.  

Deborah Finch offered her hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sterling. Glad you could come in on short notice.” 

Sterling moved his coffee to the other hand, and returned the handshake. “Happy to be of service, ma’am.” Then he took a sip of his coffee and looked her in the eye. “Though I have to say, I’m surprised to be here at all. I’m not exactly low-profile anymore. So I’m not sure what I can do for you.” 

Finch said nothing, but turned and motioned for them to follow her. They made their way to her office, a spartan affair off the main hallway. The lack of decorations seemed to indicate that she had not been there long - or did not plan to remain much longer. No photos, no diplomas or certificates, only a trifold flag in its case on a shelf.  _ No nonsense,  _ Sterling thought to himself. 

Once they were seated, Finch got to the point. “Mr. Sterling, There was a robbery at Station Java on July 16th. A third shifter from the Corvega Plant was arrested. The initial report said that he had a laser pistol and that he had taken a little less than $800 from the till.” 

Sterling nodded. “I’ve heard about the case. Our office is prosecuting it. But it hasn’t even been to pre-trial yet.” He strained to remember any details, then shook his head. “I don’t know any of the specifics, but the attorney prosecuting thought they had two strong eyewitnesses and a quick arrest - so no side-alleys about alternative suspects or whatever.” 

He looked over at Vogel. “And this isn’t my place, but treating it as a bog-standard robbery seems to fit with the front operation. Slocum’s Joe prosecutes theft with a vengeance, both employees and outsiders. “ Vogel’s slow nod confirmed this - it had been Vogel’s policy, after all, as a means of deterrence. “OK, so if they don’t go after a robbery at the flagship store, a stone’s throw from the home office? It looks bad.” 

“And we’ve agreed with Colonel Vogel on this point. The whole point of running a coffee shop above one of the biggest intelligence operations on the Eastern Seaboard is so that we can hide in plain sight. We can dead drop, we can listen, we can receive large deliveries, all without crawling through a sewer.” Finch looked at Sterling. “That all relies on maintaining a low profile.” 

Sterling shrugged. “As I understand it, this case is open and shut. But I can confirm that we won’t promote it or issue press releases or anything, if that makes you feel better. We don’t need to. It’ll be in court, and public record - even if we get the guy to plea down, there’ll still be paperwork - but no more or less than any other case.” Now he saw that Finch was frowning. “What happened?”

Finch said nothing as she slid the folder over to him. He glanced at Vogel, who nodded to the folder. Sterling opened it up and read the two pages inside.  _ Aaaaaand, there it is,  _ he sighed to himself.  _ The sandbag. _

“OK, let me get this straight. I have two witnesses. One is a DIA Corporal who was on the counter that morning. This says he’s been reassigned to Vancouver. And this Cozelli woman, as it turns out, is a DIA Consultant in Psych Ops, who works at Medford.” Sterling tapped the folder. “And it turns out that she called in the robbery because the suspect heard her discussing the PAM initiative, whatever that is? In the open?” 

Finch winced but said nothing. 

“That’s not all.” said Vogel, quietly. Sterling looked back to the folder. 

“So he did have a gun. But it was a squirt gun from an amusement park and it only had fingerprints on the top - none on the handle. And the fingerprints on top were inverted, so if he did brandish it he would have been holding it from the top and backwards.” He looks up. “It’s hard to claim that it was a laser if the guy was holding it with the end that says ‘Nuka-World Brand Thirst Zapper!’”

Sterling met Finch’s eyes. He didn’t need the report to fill in the rest. “So the cash that was missing wasn’t missing?” 

Finch shook her head. 

Sterling pinched the bridge of his nose, then sipped his coffee. “Well gee, Pete, I’m pretty sure Ms. Cozelli just put herself on the hook for a false report, and the Silva family will probably sue the pants off of her as well, seeing as Mr. Silva lost his job.” He tossed the file back on the desk. “And my office gets to withdraw charges and release an accused armed robber. So we look like idiots.” 

“No.” Sterling and Vogel turned to Finch. “You can’t drop the case.” 

“All due respect, ma’am, but this case is no longer winnable.” He pointed to the file. “I have one potentially reliable witness, who can’t discuss what he was talking about with Ms. Cozelli without either breaking security at DIA or perjuring himself. And who happens to be in Vancouver, which is currently considered a combat zone, which means I can’t even subpoena him.” 

“And then I have another witness who will testify that Mr. Silva brandished a squirt gun without leaving fingerprints, took cash that doesn’t exist, and that he walked out calmly and meandered down the fucking street.” Sterling felt himself slip into closing arguments mode. Before he became more politician than attorney, he was the kind of prosecutor who would game out his opponents. The best way to know what the defense was going to do was to figure out what you’d do if you were on defense. So here and now, the arguments fit themselves together neatly and clearly, and the motion to dismiss almost wrote itself. 

The motion…  _ oh no… _

“Colonel Finch, why am I here? You can’t order me not to drop the case, because prosecuting this case - if it’s as bad as that report says it is - would be out of character, both for my office and for Slocum’s Joe. And it guarantees increased scrutiny being directed at Station Java, at a time when things overseas are starting to heat up. If the defendant had all of this, they’d file a motion to dismiss. They haven’t. “ He looked at Vogel. “Or have they?” 

Vogel handed over a piece of paper. “Gina Tedesco has a new sharpshooter, and she’s taking it pro bono under Tedesco and Tedesco’s umbrella. This was filed yesterday afternoon. The clerk kept it out of the file and passed it to me. “

_ Motion to dismiss with prejudice, or in the alternative motion to compel evidence… _ this was good work, Sterling thought. No evidence of laser, or of weapon, check. No evidence of cash stolen, check. No probable cause, check. Fingerprint analysis, check. Request for interviews with staff and Ms. Cozelli, check. Request for video footage…  _ oh shit _ . 

“The cameras feed monitors in the security office, as you know. We will not acknowledge them in court. We can’t, because then we have to show who installed them and when and are they properly set up and so on.” Vogel paused. “Why would a coffee shop have work done by the Army Corps of Engineers?” 

Vogel smiled and shook his head. “This is really neat work here. If we drop the case outright, then the Silva family - led by this new attorney, and I’d love to know her name, by the way - they smell blood and sue in civil court. If we don’t, this motion nails us to the wall. Even if we could convince a jury that he did rob the place, we’d still have to go on record with why the cameras have no footage. We can fake up something, but someone will notice. “ Vogel looked at Finch. “Our adversaries have operatives everywhere. As you well know, Bill. Discrepancies like this are their wet dream.” 

Sterling looked to Finch again. “Welp, I’m here at your request. I assume the DIA has orders for me?” He was mindful of exactly what assumption was the mother of, but he was also annoyed and wanted to tweak Finch a bit. 

Finch’s face clouded over, but she kept her composure. “We do have orders for you, Major Sterling.” she said, using his rank for the first time. “Stall.” 

He blinked. “I beg your pardon?” 

“Stall. They can’t sue in civil court until the criminal proceeding is done, right? So stall.” Finch looked to Vogel. “Silva has had no contact with a foreign power in the last 5 years, except for one trip to Cape Verde with his mother, for a funeral. “ She checked her notes. “His grandfather.” 

She continued, looking at Sterling. “Nothing he’s said gives any hint that he thought the PAM initiative was anything other than a woman named Pam. And there’s nothing in his file that suggests that he’s an enemy agent. So the security risk is minimal.” 

Sterling knew the correct response, of course. It had been his job for 3 years. “If he’s a sleeper, though? He could have reported out through his wife or another contact.” He tapped the file. “Or even through this new out-of-nowhere attorney.” 

“If he did,” Finch said pointedly, “We’ve seen no signal traffic to indicate it. If he got his report out, we’d have heard something. Maybe something vague and unclear, but there would have been something.” 

She looked at Vogel. “If Slocum’s Joe offered to settle with the Silvas, do you think you could come up with a number that would keep them quiet?” 

Vogel thought for a moment. “There’s a reason Station Java is our flagship store. If the choice is an embarrassing lawsuit over false accusations and the publicity that comes with it, that’s no choice at all.” Now his lawyer’s smile. “And of course the DIA will back me up with their funds, if it becomes necessary?” 

Finch frowned again, but nodded. 

Sterling piped up. “So what do I do, tell this guy to sit tight in his cell while we figure out a story?” As much as he did not relish locking an innocent man away unnecessarily, Mr. Silva had had the bad luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that was just too damn bad. 

Finch looked at him. “The state opposed bail when it was a laser. Why not drop that?” 

Vogel picked this up. “Keep the robbery charge, drop the unlicensed laser and recommend an own-recognizance release. It’ll get him home to his family. Then ask the judge for time to review the motion to dismiss. By the time you’re ready to address that, I’ll have a settlement offer and Mr. Silva’s signature. Then you drop the charges and everyone walks away. “ Vogel smiled. “There are risks, but I think this is the only way we’re going to thread the needle.” 

Sterling agreed, but that left one other item. “And Ms. Cozelli?” 

Finch smiled joylessly. “We’ll take care of her. I don’t think you’ll have a problem there.” 

“Outstanding.” said Sterling. “Pete, let’s get together on Monday and hash out our timeline. Pretrial is Friday, and I want to see at least Game 1 of the ALDS.” 

“You’re on. Thanks, Bill, for helping us out.” 

_ As if I had a choice, _ he thought, looking at the Lt. Colonel. But this was the DIA. And he would play the role he was given. 

As the colonel walked them out, Bill Sterling didn’t think about the case at all. That was next week’s problem. He didn’t even think about his old office, just down that hall, where he spent years of his life in a cave, searching for anything that might tell him what the bad guys were talking about. 

No, his thoughts were of some anonymous lawyer who out of nowhere had brought the US Defense Intelligence Agency to a halt, almost exposing one of its most secret operations, and embarrassing a multi-billion dollar corporation as a bonus. 

He hoped she hadn’t chosen criminal defense as a career. He found himself wanting to offer her a job. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried very hard to figure out why the hell a major domestic intelligence operation would be found under what's essentially a Dunkin' Donuts. I hit some of that here, I think. The other bit is that this is essentially wartime America, draft and all, mixed with 50's culture and Communist Paranoia. So what sort of domestic intelligence operation would we get? Of course they'd have people everywhere. 
> 
> I deliberately have ignored Mr. Silva's African descent. Maybe West Africa is neutral? If he had been Chinese, this would be a very different story. 
> 
> On dates: No, of course I didn't figure out when the Baseball playoffs were in the last year in which October 23rd fell on a Saturday (as it does in 2077). That would be silly. 
> 
> Thanks again for sticking with me and my legalese - and apologies if it gets too dense. Feedback is, as always, welcome.


	6. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the hearing, Gina and Nora try to figure out their next steps. Meanwhile, Mr. Silva goes home.

Nora was still getting used to the weather. To her, the first week in October shouldn’t be sunny and 72 degrees. But she had to admit that it was perfect weather for baseball.  _ I might even make it home to see the start of the game _ , she thought. It was Boston’s first playoff shot in a long time, and Nate was excited - he hoped Shaun would not know the pain that Boston fans had endured for decades.

As she walked out of the courthouse, her portfolio in hand, still full of now unneeded case notes, she saw the Silva family across the plaza. Rebecca Silva, Corsino Silva’s wife, was talking excitedly to a group of people who had come to support her husband. Nora saw Mr. Silva’s mother sitting on a bench nearby, with a boy she knew to be Roberto Silva, Mr. Silva’s son. His little suit made her think of Shaun.

Several men of various ages formed another group, and their matching polo shirts all bore Corvega’s proud logo.  _ Coworkers,  _ Nora thought. 

“This is why I like these cases,” Gina Tedesco said, as she walked over to Nora. 

“They look like they won the lottery,” said Nora, nodding to the family. “They look like it’s over.” 

“That’s my point. They aren’t worried about motions to extend time and effectively mooted orders and this and that.“ Gina smiled, nodding to someone behind Nora. “Their father is coming home. That’s enough for today.”

Nora turned, and saw why Gina was smiling. Her father was approaching them, cane in hand, wearing his best suit. Franklin Tedesco hadn’t seen the inside of a courtroom in several years, and his semi-retirement was what had brought Gina back to the firm in the first place. For all that, he continued to work with corporate negotiations and high-profile settlements, and the sight of Frank Tedesco sitting across the table was still enough to strike fear into the hearts of lesser attorneys. His eyes were sharp, and he missed nothing. 

Frank hugged his daughter, and then Nora. “What are you doing out here? I thought the hearing would be starting by now?” 

Nora answered him. “It was over before we walked in. The DA’s office filed a word salad motion.” She paused, only now taking the time to think everything through. “They dropped the laser charge, and so everything that goes with it - the upgrade to the robbery charge, the fingerprint shenanigans, the 911 call - gets thrown out too. “

Frank looked from Nora to Gina and back. “So what did they do with an armed robbery charge that isn’t actually armed and can’t really be proven to be robbery?” 

Gina shrugged. “Citing scheduling conflicts due to a previously planned vacation and the election, the acting DA asked for an extension of time to respond to our motion.” Now she shook her head. “And that doesn’t make sense either, they don’t cancel court cases for elections, other than the day of. And the DA’s office has multiple attorneys specifically so they don’t have to reschedule if someone calls in sick or goes fishing.“

Frank considered that. He didn’t know the acting deputy DA, Bill Sterling, other than that he had a reputation as a bit of a hotshot. He did, however, know Sterling’s boss, Acting District Attorney Dale Foster. They’d gone fishing together once or twice, years ago. He knew that Foster had a sign over the door of his office that read “Don’t fuck up.” 

He also knew that Foster was the sort of DA who would drop a potentially winnable case if the evidence didn’t convince him. The Armed Robbery charge relied almost entirely on one woman saying that Corsino Silva waved a laser at her. If they drop that, the robbery charge falls apart. That’s not a case Foster would send up. At worst, he’d see if there was a plea deal. More likely, he’d have it dismissed entirely and apply his hand to the back of someone’s head for filing a weak case in the first place. So that means…

“Has the prosecutor come out yet?” Frank asked. Nora nodded toward the courthouse, where Bill Sterling was consulting with one of his office’s attorneys. 

Frank Tedesco squared his shoulders and spun his cane in his hand, like a batter coming to the plate. With a grin, he looked at his daughter. “Time to have some fun, then.” 

Gina’s eyes got a bit wide, but she had seen this look on her father’s face before. He knew exactly how to play with people’s expectations, and had used his age and “frailty” to masterful effect at the negotiating table. He walked over to Nora and took her elbow. “Come on, dear, let’s go say hello to the other team.” 

Smiling, Gina walked over to the Silva family. She was pretty sure she knew what her father was going to do.

As they walked slowly over to the courthouse, Nora wasn’t so sure. “Mr. Tedesco…” Nora began. 

“Nora, you’ve known Gina for a decade, and me just as long. You’ve had dinner at my house. It’s Frank, dear.” 

“OK, Frank, what exactly are we doing?” 

Frank smiled. “I’m trying to figure out if your esteemed opponent is an idiot or just eager.” 

“He knows I’m the lead attorney on the case. He just saw me in court 15 minutes ago.” 

“You know that, and I know that, Nora. But I’ll bet you $50 that he doesn’t recognize you until I introduce you. He’s going to be looking at me because my name is on the firm. He’s going to assume that I’m your boss, or your boss’s boss since you worked this case through Gina. If he’s half-competent, he knows I know  _ his _ boss, and that makes me a VIP and a potential resource. “ Frank looked to her as they walked. “So when I tell him that you’re in charge and, on this case, I’m working for you, that makes you a VIP too. And that gives you the tonnage to beat him over the head with this case.” 

Nora considered that as Frank continued. “Nora, the only reason I can think of not to drop all the charges for Mr. Silva is that he thinks he can salvage a plea deal. And he thinks you’re going to think that getting 3 years in prison instead of 25 is a win for your client. He thinks you’re a newer attorney than you are, and that this is your first big case, and that you’ll take it.” Now he nods toward Sterling as they approach. “But you’re not going to, are you?” 

Nora shook her head, even before she had formed a response. “Hell with that. He’s innocent, and I can prove it.” 

Frank smiled. “Forget the hearing, forget the motions. Forget the paperwork. You’re not working the case, you’re working the people. Mr. Sterling here is the people.” He leaned toward Nora, and his voice was soft and quiet, but Nora could hear the steel underneath. “This meeting, right now, is where you win your case.” 

Nora had no response, and before she could speak they were approaching the prosecutor. “You must be that hotshot Dale’s always going on about!” Frank said loudly, as he let go of Nora’s elbow to offer his hand. “How do you do?” 

Bill Sterling had seen the old man approach, and hadn’t given him any thought. Now he took a closer look, and recognized him. “Mr. Tedesco, sir. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” He shook Frank’s hand firmly. “Mr. Foster has told me a few fish stories about you.” As expected, he ignored Nora. 

_ Wow, _ thought Nora.  _ Now I owe him $50. _

“None of those stories are more than half true, Bill. The witness offered no further comment.” Frank replied, laughing. He indicated Nora. “Nora, you’ve met Bill Sterling haven’t you?” 

Sterling blinked, now that he took a good look at who he had assumed was Frank Tedesco’s secretary. “Counsellor,” He said, suddenly cautious. 

“Mr. Sterling.” Nora replied, offering her own hand. 

Frank, still smiling, continued his set piece. “Nora was just telling me that you were going to drag her client through another few months of fiddle-faddle before dropping the rest of the charges. Planning to get him a christmas gift, are you?”

Bill Sterling looked really really uncomfortable. “I can’t discuss that here, of course, but if your client wants to…” 

Frank held up a hand. “Bill, let me stop you. I’m not lead counsel on this case, and neither is my daughter.” He inclined his head to Nora. “As far as this case goes, she’s my boss. Mr. Silva is Nora’s client.” He took Nora’s elbow again, making a show of leaning on her. Now the steel came out, as Frank continued. “And her client has a case.” 

Sterling looked Nora in the eyes, for the first time. “With respect, the Commonwealth disagrees.” 

Nora returned his gaze. “My client is accused of robbing a coffee shop. But there’s no evidence that they actually had any cash stolen. There’s no evidence that he was armed, there’s no evidence that he even spoke to either of the witnesses, and oh yeah both witnesses seem to have vanished. One is suddenly assigned to manage Slocum’s Joe #720 in Seattle, and the other just disappeared entirely. Her house is for sale, her job at Medford is open.” 

“And to top it off, Slocum’s Joe #38 has at least two video cameras that would show the whole robbery. If indeed there was a robbery.” Nora kept her voice even, but she couldn’t help feeling nervous. She was giving her closing arguments to the attorney she’d be facing in court, if and when. She was laying her cards on the table. “No jury would convict. Mr. Silva deserves to have this settled and done.”

Bill looked like he had swallowed Abraxo. Then he looked at his watch.  _ Got you _ , Nora thought. 

“I’d love to litigate the case out here, but I’m late for an appointment. The court gave us 30 days to respond to your motion to dismiss, and we’re going to need that.” Sterling looked her in the eyes again. “Perhaps there is something to your argument. We’ll see.” 

Frank shook his hand again as he offered it. “Bill, tell your boss to call me when he gets back into town. I’m planning to bribe him with bourbon and steak.” 

Sterling laughed, the tension of the encounter draining. “I’ll pass that along.” He nodded toward Nora. “But I’ll bet he’s the one doing the bribing. Don’t let him steal your new sharpshooter. She’s a keeper.” 

Nora smiled, icily. “A pleasure, Counsellor.” 

“Likewise, Counsellor.” With that, Sterling and his assistant turned to leave. 

“Enjoy the game!” said Nora. Bill turned back to her, reddening, before hurrying away. 

Frank looked at her, one eyebrow raised.

“His pocket square had a red “B” on it. What baseball fan would schedule meetings during the playoffs?” Nora was laughing now, having realized that she had won this round.

_____

They had turned the TV’s volume down to a whisper as she fed Shaun. He had stayed awake for the first two innings, mostly, but once he was full he fell right to sleep. Nora laid him gently in his crib, then tapped the rocket mobile gently. It didn’t turn. 

_ Nate’ll have to fix that… _ she thought. 

San Jose was still batting when she rejoined Nate on the couch. This time, she had a beer of her own - this was the playoffs, after all. 

“So Mr. Silva gets to go home.” Nate said. “You did good work, kid.” 

Nora smiled as they tapped their bottles together. “You should have seen his son. 3 years old in a little suit, and he just ran across the plaza when he saw his daddy walk out of the courthouse.” Nora sipped her beer. “The rest of the family followed. And there were maybe a dozen guys from Corvega there too - including two from first shift, taking the day off. Turns out Silva fixed some robots that they couldn’t figure out, and saved their jobs.”

“He sounds like a good guy.” 

Nora nodded. “He is. I just wish we had gotten all of the charges dropped.” 

Nate took a drink of his own beer, as San Jose got its third out. “It sounds like the prosecutor was scared to face you. Get him in court and nail him down, and I’ll bet he folds.” 

Nora wasn’t so sure. Despite how the afternoon had gone, she was nervous about carrying a court case on her own. And Frank Tedesco’s support, while it helped, just put that much more pressure on her. 

When she did not respond, Nate looked over at her. “I know that look.” 

Nora smiled at him. “You do, do you?” She raised her beer. “OK, soldier boy, what am I thinking?” 

Nate reached over and took her right hand. “You’re thinking that you had so much help getting here, that you’re not strong enough to carry the case on your own.” 

_ Right again, _ she thought. Her mind wandered to Gina Tedesco, to Gina's father, to the paralegals who helped her put the motions together, even to young Officer White. 

Nate continued, squeezing her hand. “Hon, you’re not a soldier in a battle. You’re the General waving the baton.” He smiled at her. “Corsino Silva is home with his family, probably watching the same game we are, because you fought for him. You had help, but the driving force was your sheer will.” 

“I mean, let’s be honest. When have you set your mind to something and  _ not  _ achieved it? If you’re after something, God be with the poor bastard in your way.” 

Nora smiled, and stood up to get another beer. As she leaned over her husband to take his empty, she planted a kiss on his forehead. “You always know just what to say, honey.” 

“Isn’t that why you married me?”

“Of course it is, Nate. That and your enormous fortune.” 

Nate laughed at that last, quietly - Shaun was still asleep. “Is that what it was?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“....well this is awkward.” 

Now Nora laughed as she closed the fridge. Nate was right, as usual. When the Silva case came before the court, she was going to nail Sterling to the wall. She was going to free Corsino Silva and keep him that way. Maybe they’d even sue for his job back. 

But she was going to win. 

_ Time to show Shaun how tough his mommy really is. _

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like her future, surrounded by strong companions, everything revolves around Nora. It kind of breaks my heart that this last chapter is set on October 8th, 2077. Unless I find my way to doing an AU where the bombs don't fall, this is where we leave almost every character. But who knows? Silva gets his three weeks with family, and Nora gets some steel of her own... which she'll need, before long.
> 
> Thank you for reading. Comments are always welcome and appreciated.


End file.
